


Legacy

by silverr



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Drama, M/M, Male Friendship, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2004-11-05
Updated: 2006-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-06 12:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverr/pseuds/silverr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1743, the two surviving Gold Saints bury the dead, receive their new orders, and heal their wounds as they spend an evening talking about life, duty, friendship, love and desire.<br/>.<br/>This story—which predates Lost Canvas canon and uses a set of Gold Saints created by the French fanartist AcerB—is primarily a character study and backstory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Air

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written in 2004, two years before _Next Dimension_ or _Lost Canvas_ were announced, and so includes non-canon names and characterizations for the 18th century Saints.
> 
> In other words, a chunk of it been soundly Jossed, and I haven't had the motivation yet to come back and do surgery on it.
> 
> I'm still agonizing about whether to try to re-write it to make it align with LC/ND. It's not just the names - which were made up at the time inspired by AcerB's amazing poster - but the personalities I gave to Dohko and Shion ( and that form the basis for the story dynamic) are now "wrong." ~ Reead it, tell me what you think?
> 
> Disclaimer: St. Seiya is copyright Kurumada Masami and Toei. No infringement or disrespect of the intellectual property rights held by the owners of existing copyrights in Saint Seiya or its derivative works is intended by this non-profit, noncommercial amateur fan fiction.

Two hundred and fifty years ago, two armored warriors - a Holy War's only survivors - stood watching sunset gild a blood-drenched battlefield. Both faces, though exhausted, shone with hard-won triumph: the Berserker legions of the War God had been trampled and the seal of Pallas had been placed on the Lord of the Underworld and his army of Spectres.

The taller warrior, whose leg had been broken in the final battle, was supported by a dark-haired companion who gestured at the blazing sky with his free arm. " _'The daylight's parting gift, the wanton beauty that heralds nightfall.'_ "

With reprimand in his voice the injured one, Gold Saint Shion of Aries, said, "Always the Libra Saint has wind for poetry." After a moment he added as he stared out over the corpses, "I see only a sea of blood and death on whose shore war's tempest has shipwrecked us."

Gold Saint Dohko of Libra said quietly, "Let us gather them up then, and lay them in the earth."

"We should strive not to fail them in that," Shion said bitterly, "as we failed to save their lives." Without looking at Dohko he held out an ornate sword that he had been using as a crutch. "This Libra blade served me well," he said stiffly. "Now I return it to you." As he shifted his weight the injured leg buckled and he began to fall; as Dohko caught him he hissed, "I do not need your pity!" His face was white with pain.

"Pity? I offer no pity," Dohko said matter-of-factly as he eased Shion onto the wide marble steps of the temple. "So be silent."

"For what purpose?" Shion asked through gritted teeth.

Dohko noted the broken bones poking white and red through the skin of Shion's blood-crusted leg. "The task ahead requires a strong back in addition to my own, and in your current state you are useless. You'll dig better once I repair thy limbs."

"Dig? And what will you be doing?"

"Why, supervising the quality of your digging, of course," Dohko said, "which no doubt will be poor, troublesome as I've heard you've become." He shook his head as he began to lift away the pieces of the Aries Cloth. "Puffed-up displays, defiance of orders, duels, trysts ..."

He heard Shion say, almost inaudibly, "And the first words you deign to speak to me in all these years are reprimands based on lies and hearsay."

It was at the tip of Dohko's tongue to say, "It was not I that ceased speaking," but because he could see the wariness behind Shion's accusing eyes - and because he had learned that there were sometimes things more important than being right - he shook his head and said only, "Thy recklessness is ever thy undoing."

. : .

During the final assault by Ares' and Hades' desperate forces they had found themselves fighting back to back, surrounded by Berserkers and Spectres, Dohko wielding the orichalcum Libra Weapons while Shion poured out a torrent of Starlight Extinction. Shion hadn't acknowledged Dohko in any way until one of Ares' giant soldiers swung a massive spiked club in a low, deadly arc: then Shion had shoved his former friend out of the way to take the full force of the crushing blow. The Berserker had been moving in on the fallen Aries Saint for the kill when Dohko had taken his head off with a single furious stroke ...

. : .

"Are you now my dam?" Shion growled, "To chastise me so?"

"Nay, I could never have suckled such an ungainly child," Dohko said as he tore back the fabric of Shion's leggings. "Out on the mountainside you would have gone, food for the wolves and the vultures."

"Ungainly? Clearly the drab sparrow knows naught of the peacock's splendor."

Dohko, careful not to give any sign of how happy this insulting banter made him, pulled off his leather hand guard, folded it into a pad, then held it out to Shion. "I am sorry for this pain this will cause, but there is no other way for it."

"Yet more wind. Why spend words to say, 'It will be such' when it cannot be otherwise?" Shion took the folded leather and bit down on it with a frown.

Dohko gripped Shion's thigh on either side of the break, pulled to align the bones, then held them in place as a golden aura flowed through his hands, healing. After a few seconds Shion shifted impatiently and pushed Dohko's hands away.

"The healing is not complete," Dohko said, sitting back on his heels.

"It will suffice."

"The lower bones of the leg are broken as well."

"As I well know!" Shion said, then added, "Why spend energy so prodigally, old woman? Think you to plead exhaustion from my healing in order to avoid your share of the digging?"

Dohko said lightly, "It comforts me to know that the Aries Saint has plenty of breath for accusation. Thus can I know that he has not died."

. : .

The pattern had been set on the very first day they met.

Dohko had arrived at dawn on the year's briefest day. He and the other children - for so they had been, despite their various superhuman powers - eyed each other guardedly at first, but soon began to make shy introductions. Dohko had had the uneasy sense that they were being watched but could not identify how, as they were in a huge stone amphitheater with few hiding places.

After about an hour they caught sight of someone near the white buildings at the top of the steep hills wrapped around the Holy Sanctuary. As this blue-clad figure passed though each Temple more people joined the descent: once the procession got closer the children could see that the leader was an old man and the others were their teachers and Masters.

The adults entered the coliseum and stopped, watching the eleven children with solemn faces. After a moment the old man asked a masked, powerfully-built woman who stood next to him, "Where is he, Master Verlis?"

She glared at a spot of air several feet away from the group of children and pointed, then gestured at the empty air.

A short, slightly plump boy with close cropped pale green hair materialized. He had two dots on his forehead instead of eyebrows, which somehow made him look both contrite and smug.

The old man frowned at him. "What was thy purpose in concealment?"

The boy bowed low, and Dohko somehow knew it was to hide his expression. "To study the others, sir, in such a way that my perusal would not cause alteration from their natural display," he said firmly. His tone was respectful, but a careful listener would have detected the somewhat patronizing arrogance as well.

The old man was a careful listener. "Is that so?" he said sternly, but then nodded at a Master with a heavily scarred face, who  commanded, "Assemble in order, according to your houses!"

The boy with the green hair walked towards the entrance and Dohko heard him say, "Taurus? Stand there next to me, then."

"Welcome to Sanctuary," the old man said. "Come forward each in turn and introduce yourself to your fellow Saints."

Almost immediately the green-haired boy stepped away from the line, turned, and announced, "Shion of Aries."

"What a strange one," the boy to the right of Dohko muttered, "Had I not seen that he had a Master, I might think him a festival entertainer who wandered here by mistake."

Dohko stifled a laugh.

"Kastor of Gemini!"

"Sylphide of Cancer!"  The dark-skinned, violet-haired Saint's voice was high and musical.

"A girl!" whispered Scorpio, sounding outraged. Female Saints were not masked until they were near puberty, but even so they had naturally assumed that all the other Gold Saints would be boys.

"As am I," whispered the Saint to Dohko's left, who stepped forward and said, "Demaris of Virgo!"

Once the introductions had been made the line was split between Virgo and Libra, and Dohko led the second line into place behind the first six houses. This put him behind the green-haired boy.

"You are paired for the day's exercises," the scarred Master said. "Disperse yourselves across this area and use what you have learned."

Shion turned and folded his arms. "We can stay right here. Let the others move."

Dohko decided not to disagree with this.

"So, Dohko," the green-haired boy said once the others moved away. "Where are you from, and what are your attacks?"

"China, and - "

"Ha!" Shion had unexpectedly sent a blast that knocked Dohko back several feet. Dohko quickly summoned one of his lesser Dragons, pushing back until their energies were balanced.

The old man – who was of course the Pontifex of Sanctuary – Shion's Master Verlis, and another Master with a grey beard and mustache watched them. "Those two will either kill each other or spur each other to full potential," the Pontifex murmured with a smile. "Which do you predict, Master Basho?"

"At this time," the Libra Master said with a chuckle, "I give even weight to each outcome."

"Your attacks are weak," Shion had grunted, as he nevertheless strained to match Dohko.

"Do you always talk so much?" Dohko retorted, still smarting from being tricked.

"I have two attacks and a strong defense. And I can repair Cloths. What can you do?"

"I," Dohko said, his final surge knocking Shion to the ground, "am not _boastful_."

Shion's red eyes widened as he landed hard – then he laughed. Dohko, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath, started to grin as well, and then extended his hand to help the other boy up.

And thus was a friendship born as both relentlessly competed – primarily with each other – for the laurel of "best" in ways as different as their temperaments. Shion was fast, a sprinter, exploding from the block but peaking quickly, whereas Dohko was strong, a distance runner, well-paced and tireless. Shion sought out excitement, new challenges, and chaos, whereas Dohko preferred quiet and harmony. Shion acted almost as soon as he perceived, while Dohko – unless he was fighting – liked to approach things slowly, taking in all of the subtle details of a situation and considering all angles before making a decision on how to act.

They were inseparable for seven years, until their differences tore them apart.

. : .

"This will not heal as clean as the other," Dohko said, inadvertently wincing as he lifted Shion's greave away to study the wound. "The impact shattered the bones in many places." It was amazing that Shion had continued to fight, his leg crippled thus; but then Dohko had had abundant evidence of the Aries' Saint's singlemindedness over the years.

"So you can do nothing?" Shion snorted. "Admit defeat and bring me another physician!"

"I said nothing of defeat. I merely judged that this injury will leave you with some imperfection."

"My beauty will be forever marred?"

"Such as there was to begin with, yes," Dohko said dryly, "and held in highest esteem by the possessor."

"Oh, does the monster named Envy lurk in those green eyes?" Shion turned his face away. "Just repair enough that I can this night bear our comrades to the graveyard. Past that I have no concern."

"Such black words are not like you," Dohko said.

"What do you know of what I am like? You know not who I have become," Shion answered bitterly.

Dohko again bit back what he truly wanted to say, and instead said, "What? So is all trace lost of the Shion of old, then? The one who told me often that I was short and slow and clumsy as a drunken bear?"

The corner of Shion's mouth twitched then, and Dohko almost smiled with relief.

. : .

  
(91) 29 Mar 2010


	2. Earth

A short while later Shion moved through the battlefield, relentlessly incinerating the corpses of Berserkers and Specters. Dohko followed behind like a gleaner, tending to each dead Saint by lifting away whatever pieces of Cloth remained and gently arranging the broken bodies in a semblance of sleep.

The evening star had climbed high and all traces of sunset had vanished when Dohko asked, "Where do the souls of Hades Army go?"

"Coldest hell."

Dohko, determined to breech the Aries Saint's animosity, said, "Milton? So Akio finally trusted you with his first editions?"

Shion shrugged. "And now he is now beyond caring that I failed to return them." He limped away to forestall further conversation.

Dohko sighed. He knew this Shion, the harsh one that seemed almost contemptuous of his fellow Saints, but he also knew of the other, hidden Shion, the one with a heart like a bell, tender and prone to reverberate long after an initial note was struck. Dohko felt certain that Shion was at the beginning of a long interlude of feeling shame for surviving when so many others had not.

A moment later Shion called out, "Is there a cloak or cape?"

"Yes, Gais'," Dohko said. "But why?" He started to move to where Shion stood looking down at a tangled pile of corpses.

""Stay back!" Shion barked. "Just fetch it here."

Puzzled, Dohko went to the Leo Saint and took up the cape he had lain over the body.

Shion twisted around and held his hand out. "Now avert your eyes."

Dohko tossed it the short distance, then turned his back as requested - for he had seen what looked like silver trails on Shion's face. He heard the crackle as Shion destroyed corpses, soft clicks as he set pieces of a Cloth aside. A single intake of breath, almost a sob, then Shion roared and unleashed a Stardust Revolution straight up into the night. Finally Dohko heard rustling as Shion shook out the cape.

"It is done," Shion said tonelessly. "Perhaps someday I will attain the wisdom to comprehend why Athena allows female Saints into battle."

Dohko went cold, but forced himself to stay where he was.

Shion said grimly, "Resist curiosity about this, Dohko." He went back to his task.

When the field had been cleared of every Berserker and Specter they began the burials. Normally all Saints were taken to the small cemetery at the top of the hill, but there were so many Silver and Bronze – more than five dozens – that each need be buried where they had fallen. All of Sanctuary was hallowed ground, after all.

For each Saint Shion used his powers to hold a mass of earth aloft while Dohko arranged the body in the grave, commending flesh and bone to the Mother as soul and spirit had rejoined the stars. Then Shion let the earth down and they stood in silence for a moment. Over and over, so many faces that Dohko had never seen before the day of the battle, every one a hero who had fought even with their last breath.

"He should be buried with Seraphim," Shion said as Dohko lifted the body of a Silver Saint.

"Why?"

Shion stared at him for a moment, then said, "Following an ancient tradition, they considered themselves shield-mated. Let them embrace in death," he added coldly, "as your laws forbade them to in life."

Feeling stung by this comment, Dohko decided to defer his attempt at reconciliation for a while.

Finally it was time to carry the Gold Saints to the top of the hill. More than comrades, these were the only friends they had had, the only family.

Rainier of Taurus.

Kastor of Gemini.

Sylphide of Cancer.

Gais of Leo.

Demaris of Virgo.

Chimaera of Scorpio.

Balin of Sagittarius.

Akio of Capricorn.

Athanasius of Aquarius.

Narcisse of Pisces.

Shion went to the body he had wrapped with Gais' cape and carried it to Dohko without a word. Her Gold mask still in place, Dohko recognized by the long hair – black in the moonlight, coated with blood and mud – Demaris the Virgo Saint, his companion of the past few years. He shut his eyes against the tears that appeared.

Shion said with unexpected gentleness, "She was a glorious warrior, one of the finest of us. A testament to the strength and spirit of her People."

The Libra Saint gritted his teeth and started up the hill.

. : .

It was long past midnight when they replaced the earth over the grave where they had arranged Narcisse and Sylphide in each other's arms. Shion was sitting on a stone, his posture apparently casual, but the attempt at deception did not fool Dohko. Five trips up the hill on the half-healed leg had undoubtedly resulted in further injury, but to have shirked those burdens would have caused Shion greater pain. Without asking permission Dohko knelt and put his hands out to heal. Shion did not protest.

Around them pooled the sounds of the night: crickets, owls, the wind, a drift of music from the city below, and in almost inaudible _contrapunto_, the far-off Aegean. The world was unaware of how close it had been to destruction. "Do they know," Dohko mused, looking up at the night sky, "that their sacrifices were not in vain?"

"If you had learned to attune yourself, as I have, to the nuances in the stars," Shion said, "you would know the answer. You would be able to perceive that, instead of the customary celestial indifference, tonight the heavens are joyous, buoyed by the stars that have returned to them."

Suddenly there was a gust of wind, and the spirit of Athena appeared as they had last seen her, a gray-haired War goddess shining with power. "Shion of Aries. Dohko of Libra," She said gently, "You from whom so much has been taken, and so much yet to be asked."

"We serve gladly, Athena," Shion said quietly. "Bid us, and we obey."

"For you, my last Gold Saints, there can be no rest, I fear. Ever the forces of darkness and destruction will assail this green earth, and ever must we rally to defend it."

She looked at Dohko. "I must ask that you guard the seal with which the souls of Hades' Specters have been imprisoned in the distant mountains, and to sound the alarm on the inevitable day that the seal fades and Holy War comes again to this world."

Dohko nodded. "However I may serve, I take up the task gladly."

"Thank you." She turned to Shion. "As of this night you are the new Master of Sanctuary. For you is the task of rebuilding my Saints. Repair the Cloths and watch the stars: they will tell you when each cosmo has returned to earth."

Shion's eyes widened. "Athena!" he began.

"My spirit will guide you in this undertaking."

Shion bowed his head. "You honor me with your trust."

"There is one thing more I would ask of you."

Shion spoke for both of them. "We are yours to command."

"Wait until sunrise to take up your new burdens. Take this night to heal your wounds," She said, "and once again celebrate your friendship."  Her spirit melted into the dusk.

Two warriors stood together and looked out over the land. Burnished with moonlight, it looked peaceful, with no hint of the macabre harvest that had been plowed into its bosom.

"If it is Athena's wish that we spend this time together," Shion said, "then we are compelled." He turned and went inside.

Following him, Dohko reflected that, far from bringing peace, what was buried under the surface of a man usually brought suffering.

. : .

 


	3. Water

Inside the dark Temple they followed a flickering light to the natatorium, where steam rose in lazy feathers from the heated pool. Just inside the doorway, a small table lit by an oil lamp held, soap, oil, sponges, scrapers, towels, and several earthen jars. Along the left wall, light from a well-stoked fire silhouetted two low, Roman-style couches and a trestle table set with food and wine. Across the pool they could see through a doorway into the portico, open to the night.

Dohko began to take off his Cloth, saying, "I'll leave mine here. Perhaps you'll be generous enough to give me a special rate on the repair?" He glanced at Shion, who stood as if stunned. "Are you going to fall asleep at the table, old man? Burying that sharp nose of yours in a loaf of bread?"

"I cannot do this," Shion said hollowly.

"What is it that you cannot do?" Dohko asked, although he knew it was as he had suspected.

"Bathe, eat, sleep … " Shion's hands were clenched into fists by his sides. "_Live_. As if …"

"No one is asking – " Dohko said, taking a step toward Shion, but at a red-eyed glare he stopped. "It is impossible to forget those whose lives and deaths will ever illuminate our memories."

Letting Shion think on this he filled the water jars from the pool, setting one down near the motionless Aries Saint and the other near where the Libra Cloth was stacked. "To wash away their blood and the clay of their graves, to accept the hospitality here provided, is not rejection or forgetting. It is a symbol that we shoulder our duties as the caretakers of the legacy that they died to preserve."

Shion finally said, "As always, old woman, your speeches bring to mind the churning, pointless noise of a river." His hands moved to the curved collar of his Cloth and began to laboriously remove it. When he noticed Dohko watching him he snarled, "Have you nothing better to do than gawp at me?"

It had been so easy to temper Shion's moods when they were children, Dohko thought as he turned his back and poured water over himself. Curious about everything, one only needed to show Shion something new to have his climate change from cloud to sunny enthusiasm. As they grew older, however, Shion was less easily distracted. While their competition to be the best in Sanctuary continued as ferociously as before, Shion was increasingly sullen, spending more and more time alone in his workshop. Dohko's attempts to cheer him (or at least break into his brooding) usually resulted in explosions of rage. Dohko was hurt and confused by this behavior until the day Master Basho explained that adolescence was simply accentuating their differences. As Dohko became more stable, Shion became more volatile. "His fire will subside in time," Basho said. "Until then, being his friend will be a matter of reaction, not action." From then on Dohko was even more determined to ride the currents of his friend's emotions. Like annealing a blade, friendship with Shion required the patience to endure a pattern of heating and cooling, heating and cooling – and like Damascus steel, the result was incomparable and well worth the effort. When Shion withdrew Dohko left him alone; when Shion needed someone to fight with Dohko was ready (proud that he could draw and ground Shion's electricity), and the rare calm times between these extremes were spent in companionable activities. That was why their falling out had been so painful: afterwords Shion had avoided Dohko completely, resisting every attempt at reconciliation (and even going so far as to request a new training partner). Masters Basho and Verlis had offered more than once to arbitrate, but Dohko knew that their involvement would only humiliate Shion. Dohko would have been willing to admit – if Shion had been willing to listen – that he had inadvertently hurt his friend, but by the end of the first year he came to the conclusion that Shion cherished the memory of the hurt more than the memory of the friendship. At first this angered Dohko, and then it made him sad, but finally he accepted that the schism could not be repaired by one person alone.

And yet – had not Athena herself said that they should heal their wounds and celebrate their friendship? For Athena's sake at least, he must assault the Aries fortress once again: but by diplomacy, not force. He centered himself, releasing his frustration, then asked mildly without turning around, "How is it that you can stay angry with me for years, and I cannot stay angry with you for more than minutes?"

A pause.

"That has always been a mystery to me," Shion said curtly, his voice echoing in the large chamber. "Although I would attribute it to your lack of resolve."

"And none to your excessive pride and ill-temper?"

Perhaps he imagined it, but there now seemed to be a change in the silence. Was Shion thinking of Athena's words as well? "Those elements may have been present," he finally said grudgingly, "in some small measure."

Dohko decided to press forward. "Will you assist me?" he asked. That had been their ritual phrase to conclude spats when they were children, acknowledging that they needed each other so that they could move beyond whatever trivial thing they had fought about.

"It is not so easily undone," Dohko heard Shion murmur, but still there was the slap of feet as the other Saint walked towards him. "What is it that you require?"

Dohko held his sponge back over his shoulder.

Shion snatched it. "Tis no wonder you cannot reach, old woman, for the shortness of your arms is in proportion to thy generally diminutive stature."

The soap stung every wound – and Shion's touch was less than gentle – but Dohko was encouraged. Perhaps, if he was patient and honest, there was yet hope.

Shion scrubbed the sponge across a place where the Cloth had deeply gouged Dohko's shoulder. He stopped, poured water over the area, and then pressed his fingertips to it. "What caused this?"

"A rough edge on my Cloth."

"Why did you not come to me for repair before the battle?" Shion asked.

The answer hung in the air unspoken: _Because you would not see me._

Dohko felt a cool tingle like mint wine. He twisted his head as Shion took his fingers away. Healed. So unpredictable, even after so many years! Shion's hands worked their way down Dohko's back, stopping at each cut and gash and bruise, drawing out the pain.

Dohko's pulse hammered in his throat. He wanted to say, _I have missed you!_ But "Enough now," was all he let himself say.

The silence in the room seemed to thicken, the sound of water droplets hitting the tiled floor like pearls on velvet.

"I have not completed," Shion said, but he took his hands away nevertheless.

"It suffices," Dohko said. He turned. Those red eyes – their center touched with a point of gold from the candlelight – the alien face made gaunt by exhaustion. "Will you allow me to reciprocate?"

Shion gave a snort and hit Dohko's head lightly with his fist. "How often was this melon struck in battle? Such a battering it must have taken, to forget already the mending of my leg?"

"Shion," Dohko said, "We have always striven with each other, but long ago I came to know that – I value having thee to strive with."

Shion shook his head. "An overripe, sentimental melon." He pulled his hair forward over his shoulder and, turning, added imperiously, "Wash my back, old woman."

As Dohko scrubbed, (careful to avoid the crescent-shaped _occasus _at the base of the Aries Saint's spine) he added, blurting past his resolve to be cautious, "And every day that has passed – "

"The cold air," Shion cut in, "must be the reason you continue to chatter so." He stalked away from Dohko and descended the steps to sit, chest-deep in the water, his arms out to either side as imperially as if he sat on a throne.

Dohko shook his head. This too was Shion, never accepting even the humblest olive branch without rancor. He walked to the edge of the pool. The dark water, tinted orange by the firelight and sprinkled with reflections from the candles, was like an evening sky in miniature, sunset and stars – and Shion, broad shouldered and with his long hair twisted into a rough topknot, was like Zeus presiding over all.

Dohko dove in, gliding underwater like a seal to surface at the opposite end of the pool. He shook his head: droplets flew. "Swim."

"No."

"Why not? The water's warmth is a delight."

"If there were a mirror, you would see the reason. Dripping and undignified. Besides, nothing smells worse than a wet cub." He added darkly, just as the urge to pull him under came into Dohko's head, "and do not think to vex me. I am always prepared for anything you may think to do."

"I remember well," Dohko said.

. : .

The gymnasium had been filled with light.

Narcisse was holding back, avoiding getting a good choke-hold on Sylphide because he was reluctant to touch her budding breasts. With a triumphant snarl the masked Cancer Saint hooked her leg around his, reversed their position, and pinned him despite her height and weight disadvantage.

"See," Shion had whispered in Dohko's ear, "The enemy will not wait until your full attention is on the fight." He rubbed Dohko's face against the mat.

"Do you love to hear yourself talk so much then?" Dohko had retorted, and flipped Shion up, over, and off him. Shion was taller but Dohko had slightly superior strength: their matches usually ended in a draw.

This time, however, Shion spun and grabbed him in what they had been taught was an illegal hold. Dohko yelped, and the gymnasium echoed with laughter.

"That's cheating," Dohko said, furious. "Shameless, to use such a tactic." He felt unaccountably embarrassed.

"An enemy will not respect your dignity. Or your modesty," Shion had said mischievously, not relinquishing his hold.

"Then you must be my enemy," Dohko had asked, "for a friend would not do such a thing."

"What kind of friend would I be if I did not help a fellow Saint overcome his deficiencies?"

"You twist the truth to suit your purposes!"

"So do you cede the match to me?"

"Never!"

. : .

"Where went your thoughts just now?" Shion asked lazily.

"The day in the gymnasium when you taught me to be prepared for anything an enemy might do."

Shion frowned. "Indeed? I remember that as the day you asked if I was your enemy."

"And then you demanded my surrender," Dohko laughed. "It was so like you to think in those terms."

"I cannot be anything other than what I am."

"It was a good lesson, which I applied to all encounters save one."

Shion tilted his head. "Oh?"

"Only once after that was I taken unawares by someone's actions," Dohko said, and when Shion looked away he clenched his fists under the water and added intently, "Shion, you must know that it was never my intent – ”

"It is in the past, and pointless to recall." Shion's voice was oddly flat. "That Aries, that Libra – they no longer exist. We are not as we were then." Then he stood and climbed out of the pool, disappearing into one of the inner rooms of the temple and leaving Dohko alone in the turbulent night.

. : .


	4. Fire

Dohko huddled in the warm water and cursed his clumsiness. He had thought that talking to Shion would be like helping an animal with a thorn in its paw – the initial prying would be resisted, but sooner or later the thorn would come out and the wound could start to heal.

However, with all his care he was still being bitten.

He climbed from the water, smiling as he conjured an image of a snarling wolf limping on three legs, just as Shion returned with two plain linen robes. Wordlessly they dressed, then Dohko bent to tend the fire.

Shion stood nearby, shaking out the dripping ends of his hair (which had become wet despite his precautions).

"Should I add Vanity to your inventory of sins," Dohko asked as he placed a log, "to be Wrath's companion?"

Shion flicked his hair, and the drops fell on Dohko like rain. "Is that Envy I hear again?"

"Tis too elevated a concept for this sparrow," Dohko said, tossing a small bundle of bark-wrapped herbs onto the fire before turning to the table of food. If Shion was not willing to converse on any but the lightest of subjects – well, so be it.

"Well, I have not Sloth," Shion said, combing through his hair with his fingers. He watched Dohko take a bite of bread, then added, "nor Gluttony, as some do."

Dohko rolled his eyes as he chewed.

The next few minutes they stood at the table, eating quickly (as soldiers learn to do: battles rarely pause for meals), then settling on their couches.

Dohko hoped to keep spinning out the thread of conversation. "The only sin that I would say is impossible for a Saint is Avarice, as our essential nature as Saints eschews personal gain for a higher good."

Shion nodded. "And what of Lust's net?" he asked.

So like a hunter's snare. "In my judgment none of our company was prone to that vice."

Shion did not reply. They sat listening to the crackling of the fire. After a while Shion begin to stand. "What is needed?" Dohko asked.

"The fire should be tended by one who understands its nature."

"If it begins to fail then you can guide me in reviving it," Dohko said. "Until then, thy leg still needs recuperation."

"Truly," Shion said as he eased back on the couch, "For I fear my physician got his diploma from a traveling marionette troupe."

"Well then, if thy leg is now wood should I use it to feed the fire? Thus can I test if the fiery Ram burns easily or not."

Shion snorted. "You are far from the first to attempt that test. Were I so inclined I could have gathered lovers as your kind does, blonde, auburn, brown, fair, meek, saucy ..."

"A veritable bouquet," Dohko said.

"Whose blooms wither with morning's light." Shion's eyes were closed.

"Tis well said," Dohko agreed, then asked, "What mean you, that you were not inclined? I have heard that you tended a varied garden these past few years."

Shion opened his eyes. "And when was it that you were appointed secretary of my liaisons?"

"There was no need. The gossips kept them well recorded."

"I had thought you too solemn to give ear to such prattle." Shion reached behind him to take another handful of olives. "It always surprises me, this appetite some of your kind have for stories of other people's beddings. Puzzling given that the black-robed Fathers teach that it is a sin to indulge the flesh."

"Is it not so for your race?" Dohko asked.

"Other than my Master Verlis, I have never met any of my race." Shion ate a few of the olives thoughtfully as he stared into the fire, then said, "It is a prohibition I have never understood."

Dohko said nothing.

"As I understand it," Shion continued, "that outside the ramparts of sacrament and honor neither law nor church distinguish the physical expression of noble feeling from base carnal desire." He paused, and then, as if aware that he had become too serious added, "Perhaps the two truly are not that different? All in all, aside from the sweet words and blushes and sighs and love-trinkets, are Amor's positions and claspings and organs any different than animals rutting in the spring?"

"I know not," Dohko said.

"What, is your maidenhead still unclaimed?" When Dohko did not reply he said quietly, "Then that at least we still have in common."

Dohko, surprised, asked, "Faith, all said nay?"

"All said naught." Shion's tone had changed to brusque again.

"Is it not the same thing?"

"Only you would think so."

"So what is the difference, then, between 'naught' and 'no'? Enlighten me."

"The difference between a question unasked and an offering rejected," Shion said, his words like a lash.

. : .

“Who you are is reflected in everything you do,” Master Basho had said, “from the noblest and most complex endeavor down to the smallest everyday act.”

“So Master,” Balin of Sagittarius had asked with a grin, “if we apply that principle, we could comprehend Aries and Libra just by watching them eat?”

The dining hall had echoed with laughter; Master Basho had smiled as he sipped his tea. Dohko grinned at Balin, who inclined his head in Shion's direction. As usual, the Aries Saint was not in his chair: as usual he was stalking around the table, participating in almost every conversation, devouring what little he did eat (as usual, the spiciest food on the table) as if stoking a furnace. Dohko, on the other hand, was eating slowly, listening rather than speaking, savoring the subtle flavors of the simple foods he preferred, drinking in the blessing that was the company of his fellow Saints. A silvery peal of laughter from Sylphide: Narcisse was tickling her, and she was telling him to stop. Even though her mask, her happiness was as evident as was Narcisse's. Their romance was a beacon, a reminder of the throngs that the Saints had come into being to protect - which is probably why the Masters allowed it.

Dohko smiled and turned back to finish his soup, raised his bowl to tip the last of his broth and noodles into his mouth, and caught sight of Shion's face. Furious about something. Whatever it was, Dohko was confident that Shion would talk to him about it when he was ready. Likely just the usual harbinger of an approaching storm of ill-temper.

The Aquarius Saint arrived late, but with a treat – fragrant, smooth-skinned oval fruits he told them were called _mangkay_ in his native land of Hindustan. Almost everyone ate the juicy yellow-gold slices as soon as they were served; Dohko, however, set his aside to savor for dessert. Shion leaned over the table and picked up the small plate. "So you don't want this?" he asked, eyes twinkling. He'd waited to ask the question until Dohko had just bitten into a large green onion dumpling.

" 'm not ready for it yet," Dohko mumbled around his food, waving at Shion to set the plate down.

He heard the plate clatter on the table, then a cry of “Thief! Dohko has been robbed!”

It took him a minute to realize what had happened. Gais pointed to Dohko's now empty plate, and then to Shion, smirking in the doorway of the refectory, flashing something yellow in his hand before disappearing out the door. Dohko jumped up, shouted apologies to everyone, and ran after the Aries Saint.

Shion, his hair streaming behind him like pale green flame, raced over the hills toward the ancient groves of the side of the hills away from the town. Between the head start and his longer legs, the gap between them grew, but Dohko was unconcerned: Shion didn't have his endurance, and so as long as Dohko persisted he would wear him down eventually.

Into the grove the chase went on. Shion disappeared from sight from time to time, but Dohko was ever closer. He caught him at last in the place high in the hills where a hollow screened by gnarled trees made a shady retreat where they had spent many hours.

Shion held out his hand. The piece of fruit glowed in his palm.

"That's mine," Dohko said.

"Then come and get it," Shion taunted, but as Dohko walked towards him Shion tossed it into his mouth.

Dohko, irritated with Shion's antics, leapt at him, knocking him to the ground. "Give!"

Shion shook his head, then narrowed his eyes. "Mine now," he mumbled.

"I want it back," Dohko said, and without thinking put his mouth over Shion's, intending to scoop it back with his tongue.

He would have expected an all-out wrestling match ending with Shion accepting a pummeling in punishment for the theft – so when Shion was completely unresisting Dohko worried for a moment that he'd hurt his friend when he knocked him the ground, and pulled back. Shion threw an arm over Dohko's neck and with a swift motion rolled them so that he was on top.

And then the theft was forgotten as Shion kissed him, his cosmo swirling around them both, almost scalding in its intensity. There was no doubt in Dohko's mind that Shion was pouring himself into the reality of a moment that must have been imagined many times. How could he not have known that Shion felt this way about him?

For his own part Dohko felt as though he would explode from the depth of Shion's joy, the passion of the insistent, sweet-tasting mouth, the hand stroking along his side and over his hip, sending arcs of fire down his limbs, unexpected and overwhelming ... he needed a moment to adjust, to breathe, to think, and so gripped the other Saint's shoulder and turned his head to the side. "Shion," he began, "Stop – ".

Shion sprung off him as if thrown, and with a growl fled from the grove.

_No._

Dohko lay stunned, without breath enough to to call him back. What had gone wrong? 

No reply. He opened his cosmos, reached out, found nothing.

Still he knew Shion.

(Did he?)

If he just waited here patiently … Shion would come back.

(Wouldn't he?)

All these years that they had studied and trained and fought side by side, much more than just fellow Saints: friends. Now that he had seen an unexpected side of his friend, that knowledge didn't have to alter their friendship.

(Did it?)

An hour passed; two. The wet leaves and pine needles he was sitting on slowly soaked through his clothes, pulling the heat out of his body and numbing him. He welcomed it, had an image of lying on the ground through the seasons, his body being covered with leaves and then with snow, slowly sinking into the earth, crumbling and dissolving ... and with that image equilibrium returned. Of course he would get past this, because after all his purpose was to serve Athena, and whether he did that alone or with a friend was not of consequence.

But … _Shion_.

With a pang of despair he put his hands over his eyes. "Shion," he whispered, and saying the name made his throat close in misery.

A soft step: he looked around with a start.

Demaris. She sank down cross-legged next to him, her long turquoise hair fanning out like wings. She didn't say, _What happened?_ or _I'm sure it'll be fine – you two have fought before_; she just sat patiently, her golden mask somehow comforting in its expressionlessness. Dohko was grateful for that, and for her silence.

When the sun started to slant toward sunset she held out her hand and led him to dinner.

. : .

Shion got up from his couch suddenly. "Good night." He strode towards the portico, where the previous Pontifex had slept in the open air.

"Shion," Dohko said sharply, "This time I will not let you depart until you hear what I have to say."

Shion stopped, his proud back a reprimand.

"You chose to see and hear naught but one word that day."

Shion said harshly, "A single word can have great power, Dohko. Does not a single word – the name of Athena – keep the souls of Hades and Poseidon locked away?"

"We are not gods, Shion," Dohko said patiently, "nor demons bound. Cannot that one word be undone?"

Shion turned. "To what purpose? Since that time, our disharmony has become too great. Where once our differences complemented, now they are an antagonism. We can no longer be harnessed to the same yoke. And soon we will have the entire earth itself between us, and need never speak again."

"You are wrong in this," Dohko said. Aware of his rising irritation he drew on every memory of their past friendship. "Shion, after Athena and my Master, you have been the most important person in my life. And we are both Saints of Athena yet, so if for no other reason than it is Athena's wish, I will not leave Sanctuary with this poison between us."

"Why do you insist on pursuing this?" Shion asked. "What does it serve you to land further blows upon my bruises?"

"What, is all in the world about _your _pain?" Dohko retorted, finally angry. "Is there no end to your selfishness? Think you it did not injure me? To gauge the depth of your feeling in the way you threw away our friendship, like a sulky infant that throws away the half because he cannot have the whole?"

"Never could you understand," Shion said, so furious he was shaking, "why I might chose not to accept Tantalus' fate!"

"No, you must have everything _now_," Dohko snapped back, "No patience for anything! Always grabbing, never thinking."

They stood for a moment, a hand's-breadth apart, glaring, until finally Shion said ruefully as he backed away, "No, truly I do not."

"If I could set the sands of time back – " Dohko said, knowing that every attempt at reconciliation he had made thus far had only torn open wounds long since scarred over. 

"Not even the gods can control Time," Shion said as he disappeared into the shadows. "Goodnight, Dohko. Sleep well."

. : .


	5. Gold

The difference between day and night is exact, but the transition between them is less clear: the dawn begins to unfold long before the sun crests the horizon.

When Dohko woke the glow from the dying fire outlined a cloaked figured by the hearth. He stretched and propped himself up on an elbow. "Unable to sleep?"

Seemingly mesmerized by the embers, Shion asked, "Are you resting well on the couch?"

"It will have the benefit - " Dohko yawned hugely, "of making the ground on the way to Rozan seem soft by comparison." He stretched. "And you? Have you slept well?"

"My mind churns too restless to sail across pacific dreams." Shion said, then pointed to the portico. "Sleep the night's remainder in my abandoned bed."

"Even though invited, I would not displace the new Master of Sanctuary," Dohko said lightly, but mindful of Shion's somber expression he asked, "You seem daunted by the tasks before you. Does it not suffice that Athena herself has faith in your capacity?"

Shion shrugged. "To wait until the stars tell me when each cosmos has returned to terrestrial form? To train those who will train the vessels? To track the pulse of politics and commerce, so as to know where evil is surfacing?" He placed a handful of kindling over the embers.

"Viewed thus, your tasks are vast as the ocean is vast,” Dohko said softly, “but the ocean is amassed of drops. Each day, you will face only a drop."

As the kindling caught and petals of flame flickered from the wood Shion shook his head. "It is the solitude I dread, the barren decades ahead."

Dohko was surprised to hear Shion admit to such an emotion. "It seems unlikely to be a hermit's existence. Your duties will take you across the world, moving in spheres of power, meeting those who influence the course of nations."

"True, I will be surrounded by many," Shion said, "but an observer only, restrained in action, forbidden to reveal my true self or purpose. I will ever be alien among them."

"But you will recruit and shepherd a future generation of Saints, will you not?"

"Not for many years."

"Well, in the interim," Dohko said, "If you ever wish the company of a fellow Saint you are welcome to visit Rozan. I will welcome a familiar face. Even one as ungainly as yours."

Shion looked at him, and for the first time it seemed that it had finally struck him that Dohko too would be alone, a prisoner of his vigil. "Yes," Shion said with a flicker of his old humor, "and in doing so I can ensure that those feeble Dragon skills of yours do not decay too rapidly."

"I look forward to it. And to keeping your Aries attacks invigorated as well."

Shion turned to place a log on the embers. "Do our new duties not feel to you strange?"

"How so?"

Shion hesitated, choosing his words. "As though in performing them we should no longer consider ourselves Saints?" He held his hand out and the log exploded into flame.

"Why say you this?"

"Our great enemy – to which our entire existence was trained – has been defeated. How can we be counted as warriors now? Now that our Cloths," he gestured at the two piles of golden armor by the door, "no longer have reason to be donned?"

"Shion," Dohko leaned forward earnestly. "It is my thinking that we are defined as Saints not by our enemies nor by our Cloths, but by our loyalty to Athena and to the multitudes we are charged to protect."

Shion did not reply, and Dohko was patiently silent, watching the resurrected fire caress the hollows of his friend's face with shifting light and shadow. Finally the Aries Saint nodded. "How is it," he asked, "that you can maintain tranquility for years, and I cannot maintain it for more than minutes?"

Dohko smiled. "That has always been a mystery to me," he said, echoing Shion's statement of the night before.

Shion held out his hands to the fire. "Always I am cold. Never have I been truly warm."

"Not always," Dohko laughed, remembering.

"What have I forgotten?"

"The bark hut we built in our second year after hearing Demaris' stories of The People? The spiritual ritual of the heated stones?"

Shion gave a small nod. "Ah, truly. I remember well. 'Twas truly the only time I have ever felt surrounded by an excess of heat."

"We were so parched the next morning we barely had strength to crawl out. I have never been so thirsty." The three had slept curved around each other in the sweat lodge, innocent as newborns.

Shion placed another log into the fireplace. "So many lifetimes ago."

“Perhaps – “ Dohko waited to continue until Shion turned to look at him, then said, "It is not yet dawn. There is time for a few hours' sleep in warmth and comfort, as we had then."

Shion looked at him and blinked slowly, uncomprehending.

"Together."

Shion pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, looking uncertain.

Dohko added, "After all, it is what Athena would wish."

"If Athena would wish it," Shion said slowly, "then we are compelled."

. : .

Once the couches and table had been moved, there was more than enough room in front of the fire to lay out the clammy feather mattress and coverlet from the Pontifex's bed.

Shion gestured to Dohko. "As my guest, you should lie closest to the fire."

"And being there, it would be most expedient for me to keep it fed?" Dohko said wryly, stretching out on his side.

"I have always appreciated your practicality," Shion said matter-of-factly as he lay down on the other half of the mattress and pulled the heavy coverlet over them. His shoulder just brushed Dohko's back.

"Shion?" Dohko asked quietly, but the other Saint, his cosmo swirling and undefined as if in sleep, did not reply.

. : .

Morning came too soon. When Dohko woke Shion was gone.

He found him out on the portico, examining the Libra Cloth. "Will it take much blood?"

"Not much," Shion replied. When Dohko started to roll his sleeve, he shook his head. "Not now: I would need my tools and materials at hand – if they survived the attacks on Aries Temple – and for repair the blood must be fresh." At Dohko's puzzled look he added, "I will use my own blood, when it is required."

"Bring it to Rozan, and we will contribute together."

"There will be many Cloths needing repair," Shion said dismissively. He sounded exactly like his old self.

Dohko clapped his shoulder and said, "Then, it seems that you will need to make many trips to Rozan."

"Twice now you have mentioned this," Shion said. "You invite a guest before you have even seen if there is appropriate accommodation?"

"True," Dohko said with a laugh, "I know little of what awaits me there other than the Five Peaks that imprison Hades' minions. But I do know one thing else."

"And what is that?" Shion asked, carefully arranging the pieces of the Libra Cloth into its display form.

"The stars can be read as clearly there as on Star Hill."

Shion glanced up. There was a long moment as two proud souls took measure of their future as well as their past; then Shion said, "There is nothing for it but for me to journey there and see for myself the truth of what you say."

. : .

Hastily breakfasting, they then began the slow walk down through the Houses. After remembering silver-haired Narcisse's modesty – a shy reticence that had masked the frightening Power of the Roses – Shion took a tiny silver vase that contained a browning rose and handed it to Dohko. "To remember him by," he said.

"He is in my heart," Dohko said, "As are they all. I have no need of their possessions."

"He is dead," Shion said, "as are they all, and no longer has need of his possessions. But how does it honor him to allow these few objects that pleased him to rust and rot?"

When they entered Capricorn Shion stood for a long time holding a red-lined cape that the flamboyant Saint used to wear. Akio had been the Saint that Shion spent the most time with after his rift with Dohko, and it was clear that his ties with the swordsman had been strong.

"This was from his native land," Shion said. "He always told me he wished he had been born a century earlier, during the golden era of Gabriel Bethlen and George I Rákóczi. While his country was still independent, and yet to be consumed by the Austrian Empire." He set down the cape and picked up a foil, took a stance. "He taught me so much about European history." He looked down at the foil sadly. "I should have made myself into a better fencing opponent for him."

"It was clear that he valued your friendship," Dohko said with no envy or jealousy. The Capricorn Saint was apparently the only other person in Sanctuary with a personality strong enough to keep Shion engaged and channel his black storms, although rumors suggested that a good part of the channeling involved carousing outside of Sanctuary.

Thus they proceeded, through Sagittarius Balin's temple and Scorpio Chimera's. In each they offered a eulogy, and from each Shion took a memento for Dohko.

The next house, Virgo, Dohko could not bring himself to enter. Shion stood back, respectful. "You loved her," he said at last. "Go and say goodbye."

Dohko nodded. He left Virgo Temple a quarter of an hour later, bleak-eyed but composed, holding a small bundle of beaded deerskin.

Shion rejoined him and they continued, recalling Leo Gais' warmth and sense of humor; Cancer Sylphide's spirit, Gemini Kastor's artistic talent, Taurus Ranier's tenacity.

As they entered Aries temple Shion said, "Wait here. There is something I wish to give to thee." He came back a few minutes later and handed Dohko a small vial of green liquid.

"What is it?" Dohko asked, picking at the seal.

"Stop!" Shion said sharply. "Do not open it. It is my most precious possession, a gift from my Master Verlis."

Dohko held it up the light, slowly tilting it back and forth, fascinated. The contents changed color from green to opalescent milk as the angle of the light changed. "Then why give it to me?"

Shion hesitated. "I will not answer save to say that there is none save thee that I would give it to." He shrugged, as if trying to discount what he had just said. "Strange a gift as it may seem, it is all I have to give. You need not keep it."

"I will," said Dohko, "but I have nothing to give in return."

"A pledge," Shion said. "Make a pledge not to forget me."

"Gold could sooner turn to stone."

After that there was nothing more to say, and so Dohko, having rolled his few possessions and mementos into a boldly geometric blanket from Balin's land, turned away from his friend and his home and set out for Rozan.

. : .

_End of Part One  
~ to be continued ~_

  
(91) 29 Mar 2010


	6. Death

It may have started as soon as he stepped outside of the aegis of Sanctuary – or perhaps the night before, at the moment he had accepted his role of guardian – but he hadn't noticed. As he traveled north, the miles flying under his feet, the wind tossing the clouds, the daylight rippling like a guttering candle all he was aware of was that the pain of parting from a friend was far preferable to walking away from a stranger. He found himself unable to stop smiling as his mind's eye replayed every conversation and action of that morning: it seemed that they had finally begun to exorcise the demons that stood between them. A warm, contented glow radiated through him as he thought of his friend – _his friend – _Shion, and he already looked forward to the Aries Saint's future visits to Rozan.

And then the tree jumped in front of him.

His fast reflexes kept him from falling over it, but as he stood staring at the strangely iridescent trunk the world shuddered, swayed, blurred, and then came back into focus. There was sudden birdsong.

He closed his eyes against a wave of queasiness, breathing deeply. When he opened them again he noticed that the leaves on the fallen tree were withered, shriveled like hundreds of grey-green talons. Had they been that way before? Of course. They must have been. The tree had fallen because it was diseased, was dead before it toppled into his path.

He leapt over the trunk and continued on his way, his mind completely denying what his eyes had taken in, that the sun that had been setting to his left as the tree fell was now rising on his right.

~  :  ~

To his astonishment (had he really walked from Greece to China in just a few hours? Athena must have sped his way) he soon reached a spot he remembered from his earliest years, the bank of a stream at the edge of a clearing in the foothills below the Five Ancient Peaks. The stream, a narrow trickle as it descended the mountain, wove through the massive boulders of the mountainside to widen in this meadow, holding a shimmering mirror to the sky.

Dohko, humbled by the scene, now understood the guilt that tormented Shion: here he was, surrounded by beauty, with a duty lighter than the tiniest feather, no, lighter than a breath of wind, alive when so many others were dead, newly reconciled with the friend who was the other half of his soul.

For the first time he realized that happiness could feel like a burden.

~ :: ~

Master Basho's house was as he remembered it, tiny but well-built. Dohko ran his fingers over what looked to be recently-applied red lacquer on the door, a traditional caretaking by the nearby villagers for the Old Teacher of Rozan Peak. Inside, the long-confined air had a somber grayish smell, as if mourning the loss of its previous occupant. How sad everyone would be to learn that the master of the house would never return.

And then it occurred to him: _he_ was the Master of Rozan now. It was a thought that sat uncomfortably, stiff and heavy and unwelcome; to avoid it he reached out with his mind until he sensed them at the edges of his perception – the 108 malevolent spirits he was here to guard. They were stirring at his presence like vipers roiling under the surface of a marsh.

He pulled up water from the well and chopped wood, put some water to boil for rice and tea, then unpacked his traveling bag, placing the mementos from Sanctuary (including the vial of mysterious green liquid that Shion had given him) into an ancient painted trunk that Master Basho had told him had been made centuries ago by the Libra Saint Damonides of Constantinople. Afterwards he went outside to where ancient cherry and apple trees nestled between the house and the towering pines of the hillside. The cherry trees had been picked clean by the birds, but the gnarled apple trees still dangled a few treasures. The fruit looked so cheerful on the table, glowing in the gray light like carnelian and yellow jade, that he decided to save it for later.

It was time to go visit his prisoners. As he approached the waterfall the currents of hatred from the dark stars made his skin prickle.

_Ah, a Gold Saint!_ they jeered. _The odds are in our favor. Five score and eight to one!_

"I'm not here to fight you."

_Oh? What are you here to do then, little Gold Saint?_

"Watch. Listen."

_We'll break our bonds and crush you! As we did all your comrades._

"We will see," Dohko replied. He sat on the smooth stone ledge and closed his eyes.

As a Saint, he had learned mediation early, of course, although his ability to shut out distraction and enter the Timeless Moment was not the best in Sanctuary. That distinction went to Anathasius, who many years before had once sat for eighteen days without moving or speaking, taking neither food nor water. (Dohko had not lasted so long: despite his efforts thirst broke his concentration. For months he had to endure Shion's constant jibes about "Belly Saint Dohko.")

But that was years ago, when he was a child. Now it was as simple as breathing to set aside the Now. At first indifferently aware of his surroundings and the passage of hours, of slight alternations of warmth and cold, and of faint, occasional drops of rain, after a while even these receded: all that was left was the sluggish malevolence of the Spectres and a calm pride that he was serving Athena's command … and then suddenly a familiar, blazing cosmo, quite close. He opened his eyes.

Whatever he had intended to say was silenced by astonishment. Had he not recognized the energy as Shion's before he saw him, he would not have known his friend. When last seen Shion had been dressed in plain linen robes; now he wore a gaudy brocade jacket and breeches with a ruffled lace shirt and shoes with polished buckles. His hair, now shoulder-length and black, was pulled back and tied with a velvet ribbon, and he had acquired eyebrows to match his hair.

"Truly," Dohko said. After the hours of silence his voice seemed raspy and much too loud. "Truly, now you display the peacock fully." He stood slowly. "Have you brought a Cloth for blood already? Or were you just eager to spar with me?"

Shion was looking at him strangely. "How long have you been thus?"

"Thus? Meditating, you mean? The greater part of the day," Dohko said, squinting at the bright sunlight. Odd, day should have been waning by now. "You know how the Eternal Moment plays tricks with the hours."

Shion grimaced. "Hours? What a quaint jokester you are. Even a child would see that you delayed repairs until your faithful slave arrived."

"Repairs?" Dohko echoed. His throat was sore.

Shion was unbuttoning his jacket. "I had hoped to spend the night, but it appears that will be impossible – unless you will share the secret place you must have been sleeping all this time." He started walking away from the waterfall toward the house.

Several questions swirled in Dohko's head as he followed Shion's long-legged stride toward the house: _Why is your hair black? Why are you dressed like that? Why have you come to visit so soon?_ but all thoughts fled when Basho's house came into view.

One of the ancient pine trees – its needles as brown as rust – had fallen onto the roof, breaking its spine and knocking out so many tiles that the rafters were exposed.

"Fortunately the walls remain," Shion said.

Dohko was dimly aware as he stepped across the lintel that the lacquer of the door, hours before a bright red, was now faded and dull. Inside, the apples which earlier had glowed like jewels now were desiccated, worm-eaten husks. Seeds littered the table, tiny blackened tongues.

Shion muttered, "Had I known there would be all this to do, I would have worn other than this fragile apparel."

Dohko asked, dread blooming, "How … It is no more than a few days. A week at most, since I left Sanctuary, is it not?" And yet – arriving at Rozan in a day? The withered tree? The sun rising on his right?

"No, a score of months, and then some." Shion pulled at the corner of the mattress, which was sodden and carpeted with mold.

"No. It cannot be."

Shion turned, a curious look on his face. "And what of your appearance?"

Dohko looked down. His red woolen tunic, new when he left Sanctuary, was now barely more than rotted threads, bleached almost bone-white – as if by long exposure to the elements of sun and wind and rain.

It had been many, many years since Dohko felt fear. "Have I gone mad?"

Shion looked at him speculatively. "No, I do not believe that to be so. If you say it was to you only days … then accept that as true for Dohko."

"What mean you, 'true for Dohko' ?"

"For Shion,” Shion said, poking at the remains of the apples, “almost two years have passed since we parted. However much it strains the limits of our comprehension we must accept both of those truths."

"How can this be?"

Shion folded his arms. "Since we last met I have devoted much study to the Chronicles of the Saints. Four times a millennium dark forces rise and Athena and her Saints wage Holy War to defeat them. In times past there have always been enough Saints and Masters and students at war's conclusion to rebuild Sanctuary, guard the Seals, and train the next generation, but this cycle only we two remained. Because your people are mayflies in comparison to mine, who live centuries long if not felled by violence, I posit that Athena somehow made Rozan a place outside of Time for you, so that you could safely live the equivalent of many lifetimes guarding Hades' army."

This explanation, outrageous as it was, seemed almost sensible when delivered in Shion's characteristically confident tone. Dohko nodded slowly. "I see. Have you a theory for your eyebrows?"

Shion put a hand to his forehead and grimaced. "Ah, I have become so accustomed to my disguise … I forget it is not my true self." He shook his head; the eyebrows disappeared and his dots faded back in.

"And the black hair?"

"Dye, alas, and not so easily undone." Shion removed his jacket and laid it across the back of the chair. "Now, we have need of a grocer and carpenter's tools if we are to dine and sleep in the comfort my rank requires. Let us get to it."

~ : ~

And that is how Shion's first visit began. As Dohko went through the rubble, taking everything salvageable outside, Shion teleported away, returning moments later with a large, elegant tray of silver-domed plates. He watched, bemused, as the suddenly ravenous Dohko investigated the covered dishes. He left again, this time returning with an adze, a saw, two pairs of sailcloth work breeches and canvas boots, and clay roof tiles and pegs.

They accomplished repairs with a mixture of physical labor and psychokinesis, Shion answering Dohko's eager questions about his travels. When, after several hours of work, Shion announced that they would take a short break from their labors, he teleported to Sanctuary to retrieve a huge world map which he spread out and weighted with a rock at each corner. "Sit," he commanded. "Listen. Learn." Dohko, for his part, played the part of attentive schoolboy, his chin on his fist, absorbing Shion's explanation of how geography and human nature drove the complex alliances and private intrigues of the countries and courts he had begun to visit and observe. (He also fondly thought that, as always, Shion of Aries did love to hear himself talk.)

"So how did you begin to move in these circles of power," Dohko asked as they returned to the roof-work. "It seems as though it would be impossible for one not born into that world of nobility."

"I also feared that at first," Shion said, eying a beam. "but as I am content with the periphery rather than the center, I can take advantage of the propensity of your race to be dazzled by surfaces and seduced by wealth."

"Surfaces? You mean the clothes?"

Shion nodded. "If I look the part of the scion of a noble family – sent abroad for worldly education – and have a loose purse, few question me closely. I have," Shion said with a snort, "very rarely been asked my country of origin. I do expect that to change as I come in contact with shrewder, more powerful men and women."

"And when you are asked? What will you say?"

"What I say now, perhaps. That my family is a very old one with few heirs. That we were once powerful but are now expatriate, in hiding."

"And is such vagueness accepted?"

"The best lies, it seems, are closest to the truth."

"As well as being easier to remember."

"And now _you _talk like a courtier," Shion said. "Although you smell better than most."

"What, do they not bathe?"

Shion, his mouth now full of pegs as he began attaching roof tiles, shook his head. Dohko laughed.

They finished the roof shortly before sunset. As they carried the furniture that had survived – the table, three chairs, and Damonides' chest – back inside the house Dohko, mindful of Shion's comments (and not sure how well rain and snow had substituted for bathing) said, "I will not be long." Pulling off the tattered remains of his tunic, he hopped out of his breeches then dove into the pool below the falls. The icy water was a shock, but refreshing. As he surfaced he glimpsed Shion's outline, black against the rosy sky, high on the clifftop above him: then there was a splash, and Shion was in the water next to him.

"I thought you were too dignified for swimming?"

Shion pushed him under the water, growling. "I am not so pompous as I once was."

"Nay, this cannot be!" Dohko laughed, retaliating. "A miracle!"

Ten minutes later, cold and wet and tired and very happy, they climbed from the water to hike back to the still-warm stone of the cliff top where they lay shoulder to shoulder,watching the sun set as they listened to the enraged spirits within the mountain. When the night air started to make them shiver they snatched up their clothes and ran inside.

As Shion built a fire Dohko asked, "How long will you be here?"

"For a number of weeks I have been a guest at a country estate," Shion said, dusting off his hands as he stood. He pointed to the tray. "That was my dinner, which it is my custom to often take in my rooms." He pulled on his breeches, poured himself some wine, then sprawled in a chair. "I will explain my absence by saying that I was amorously occupied and didn't wish to be disturbed.”

"Oh?"

Shion nodded, yawning. "I predict that a certain lady will henceforth claim she bedded me, because to admit I nightly lock my door to her scratching would be a smirch on her reputation."

"Why associate with her if she irritates you so?"

"Her roster of lovers includes many of the princes and nobles I mentioned before. Not to mention – although this is rumor only – the Archbishop of a certain German city. These are circles I must continue to infiltrate if I am to monitor the currents of power."

"And?" Dohko didn't see the connection.

"To be chosen as her paramour would be a sign that I am seen as – not insignificant."

"Succumbing to seduction is an achievement to be proud of, then?" Dohko asked.

Shion shrugged, then jerked his head up at the ceiling, "Truly, I'm prouder of that."

"We'll see if your pride holds when it rains."

Shion laughed as Dohko had never heard him laugh before, boisterous, full-throated. "Oh, I have missed you these two years, old woman."

"I would say I missed you as well, but a day or two is barely enough time for the sting from your barbs to subside."

“True, true, you took much abuse from me in years past," Shion stretched as he yawned again, and stood. He disappeared from sight, then returned moments later with a large feather mattress and a coverlet – brought, it was likely, from the previously-mentioned locked room in Russia. "Nights here are cold, I am told." He dropped the mattress on the bedframe, kicked off his shoes, then lay on his side, his back to the wall. "Your place is here in front of me, so that you can be devoured first if your famous Chinese demons appear in the night."

As Dohko banked the fire he thought _Here we are again, lying in front of a fire just as we did_ – well, to him it was just a night or two ago, yet it seemed that so much had changed already. "It is 1745, you say?"

"Aye, the month of August. I cannot now recall the day. Ah, this will be pleasant," Shion said. "As I have never learned to be tolerable company to myself, it is good to be with an old friend, away from strangers and idiots."

Shion's expression of affection was undeniable proof that two years had indeed passed, for only such a length of time could have blurred their previous estrangement enough for Shion to show such warmth. "Rozan will be open to you always," Dohko said as he spread the coverlet over Shion, then hesitated: the bed was narrow …

Shion read his expression and understood. “Dohko, there is no – ”

“I know,” Dohko said, then quickly slipped under the coverlet. “You hate the cold.” He spooned back against Shion, who tensed.

"It is not – " Shion began again, but Dohko cut him off. “Although I do not know any archbishops, I can at least keep the night's chill from a good friend. Now, let us cease talking.” He reached behind him and pulled shion's arm across his chest.

His final reflection as he drifted off to sleep that perhaps happiness needn't be a burden _all_ of the time.

~ : ~

Dohko had dozed for barely a moment when he felt Shion sit up with a cry, his cosmo agitated.

"What's wrong?"

Shion stared at him, choked out, "You are not – ?" He put one hand on Dohko's throat, then clambered from the bed and strode out of the house.

Dohko followed and found Shion sitting under the ancient apple tree, his head in his hands.

"Shion?"

Minutes went by before he muttered, his head still bowed, "I am a fool."

Dohko waited patiently.

"I am swifter than you in all things, Dohko," Shion began, his tone bitter, "and my pride as well has always been greater."

Dohko knew better than to agree aloud.

"Yesterday, when I thought to travel here, my spirit gave a leap at the idea of seeing you."

There was silence after this admission. Dohko had just determined to make some mitigating comment when Shion raised his head. He looked as Dohko had never seen him, miserable and uncertain. "Then, last night as you fell asleep, I felt such happiness being here that I resolved to no longer deny myself that which brings me joy … even if it could be, as you have put it, only the half and not the whole. I lay awake as you slept, determined to breathe deep of every moment I had here with you. But, as the night went on," Shion's voice became oddly hoarse, "I felt the rhythm of your heart slow and slow and slow until at last it _stopped_."

Dohko's eyes widened.

"What could I think then but that you had died?" Shion asked.

"Shion – "

"Then!" Shion slammed his fist against his leg. "_Then_, when I was brimful of misery you – you miraculously _resurrect_! Love is truly the most artful poison devised," Shion said with bitterly, "Undetectable until one attempts an antidote."

"How could you think I was dead?" Dohko heard himself ask. "Did my body become cold? Did my cosmo fade?"

Shion glared at him. "It seems you prefer science to poetry after all."

"And poetry is now _your _tutor," Dohko said, amused. “ 'Love is an artful poison' ?”

"I spoke with too much flourish,” Shion said firmly. “An effect of my alarm that, if you were to die, my duties then would be doubled.”

“I see.”

“Now, if you are done with your magic tricks,” Shion said as he stood and took a deep breath, “I need to sleep. Unlike you, my duties tomorrow will require more of me than dozing on a rock.”

~ : ~

Shion's first suggestion was to call Dohko's meditation state "Old Woman's Corpse," but Dohko convinced him that a gift from Athena deserved a more respectful name. They finally decided on _Misopesaminos_, "half-death” – because even though the sands of time flowed for him as before and he breathed and felt his blood course in his veins, to Shion he appeared to transform to a statue, unbreathing, unmoving, unblinking, his heart beating only ten times an hour.

"Such a bother you are," Shion mock-grumbled after they had cut down the few trees close enough to threaten the house. "I see I must visit every year or two from now on to make sure you are fed."

"And each time I will pay dearly with my ears," Dohko said, holding out Shion's map and courtly clothes, "and my eyes."

"You will," Shion said, snatching them with a fleeting half-smile, "be the death of me."

. : .

  
(92) 28 Dec 2010


	7. Iron

"The bread – you like it?"

"Very much. Tell me again what it is called?" Dohko asked, tearing another piece from the dark loaf.

"_Pumper Nick_."

"And it truly means – ?"

"Devil's fart? Yes." As Dohko laughed Shion added, "They can be a whimsical people – when they're not being humorless."

The year for Shion was 1763: to Dohko barely a fortnight had passed. It was unsettling, the thought that two decades had rushed past outside of Rozan. Shion visited every day or two (Dohko thought it ironic that the impatient Shion was the one who had to wait a year or two between visits). The visits were comfortably routine: the Aries Saint would arrive with food, drink, and new clothes, rouse Dohko from the _Misopesaminos,_ tell him how long had passed in the world outside Rozan. They would inspect the house and commence repairs. ("Why we continue to do this eludes me," Shion had muttered during his third visit, "As you spend no time in this dwelling. What does a man who sits in the open air through tempests and snow care if his roof leaks?" Dohko had replied mildly, "_You_ sleep here, do you not?" After considering this, Shion had said, "Reason enough.") Once the repairs were finished they would swim, eat, and talk until Shion signaled by yawning that he was ready for bed – where they sometimes conversed until dawn. Despite the routine, the variety came, as always, from Shion – each day-year he seemed different. Today he was blond, dressed in dark muted colors.

"So this boy you spoke of – do you think he is Capricornus returned?" asked Dohko.

Shion shook his head. "He's too old. Soon to be six. By that age we had already three years of training." He stretched expansively. "Nevertheless he _is_ an extraordinary musician, such so that even the pompous sacks of mediocrity that make up most of the audiences at court are affected." Shion paused for a moment, recalling, then added thoughtfully, "When this boy plays they are compelled to stop their grunting and listen, transformed from swine to human for a moment."

"A miraculous enchantment."

"Unfortunately for me," Shion said with disgust, "it does not last. As soon as the concert ends the spell is broken and I must once again withstand their inanity." He furrowed his brow. "It is a pity you cannot hear his music. You are one of the few people I know capable of appreciation."

Dohko shrugged. "Well, I cannot, and there is nothing for it." Dohko had accepted certain things as the price of his service to Athena.

"And yet – I wonder." Shion was eyeing him speculatively. "Although you are not of my people, we are somewhat … attuned." He looked away for a moment then said suddenly,"Hold out your hand."

Dohko did as requested. Shion put his hand out as well, pressing their palms together, and began expanding his cosmo until it overlapped Dohko's. An unfamiliar emotion, a tightness in his throat, a hot, liquid sensation in his belly – and then Rozan was no more, only a room lit by hundreds of candles. The air was stuffy with perfumes and the smell of stale sweat, there was a constant rustle of silk, there was a tightness across his thighs … and floating above, a sound. He focused as he would while meditating: everything fell away but the music, rippling curtains of sound intersecting in blazes of gold, climbing his spine like a fiery chill and threading his bones with a joy so intense it was nearly unbearable. Just as he felt he might explode from the vastness it was gone.

Back in Rozan, he looked at Shion.

"I had no idea," Shion said, "that your appreciation for music was so strong." He stood suddenly, saying, "I will see you again soon," and vanished before Dohko could even draw breath to ask him what had happened, or to ask him to stay.

~ : ~

When Dohko next came out of the half-death he was surprised to find himself alone, but assumed that Shion could not break away from his worldly duties. As he went through their routine – examining the house, swimming, eating – he was increasingly aware of how silent it was without Shion. Feeling a wisp of loneliness, he reached out for Shion's cosmo: he was usually able to find it as long as Shion was near Sanctuary.

Nothing. Shion must be traveling.

The second time Dohko came out of half-death alone he was disappointed. It was too quiet while he ate, the fire barely gave any light or heat, and lying in the bed would be pointless without Shion – for while he continued to use the word "friend", Dohko was coming to realize that that word was too small for what they were to each other.

The third time he woke he was irritated. Was Shion repeating his youthful behavior, holding himself aloof after some perceived slight? Perhaps he was predictable after all.

The fourth time Shion was sitting next to him, as if to prove that he could still take Dohko by surprise. The Aries cosmo was so damped as to be almost undetectable even a mere hand's-breadth away, his face was sallow, and he was dressed in stained rags. He held out a small piece of brittle bread. "Not much of a feast this time, I'm afraid," he said, his voice a whisper.

"What is this?" Dohko said, moving to him with hands outstretched.

"No, do not touch me lest I heal," Shion said quickly. "My jailors are just barely convinced that God is my protector; if I appear miraculously recovered overnight they may yet decide to burn me."

"But why are you jailed?" Dohko asked, surreptitiously eying Shion's numerous bruises and fresh scars as they walked to the house.

"I thought it would be obvious, given all the politics I've tried to teach you." He shook his head. "Whenever the reins of power change hands, it often buys trust with the ascending power to have been established as an enemy of the power that has waned." In a typical Shion moment, he paused, and then added, "A kingly boon, to bestow the gift of manacles on me before facing the executioner."

"So these jailors are evil?" Dohko asked.

"When a mob judges itself righteous and acting on God's behalf, they claim sanctity even for the vilest actions."

Dohko bit his lip. This sounded nothing like the Shion he had known as a boy.

"Speaking of vile, I am sorry that I must impose my stink on you," Shion said as he stepped into the house. "But there is nothing for it. It is well known that demons bathe daily, while a godly man proudly carries the dirt of Adam." He noted Dohko's concerned frown and said with deliberate lightness, "Ah, Dohko, it is not as bleak as I paint it. Simpletons are driven by appetite and superstition, and thus are easy to puppet. For example, on the day that I had estimated that a normal man could take no more of their attentions – "

"Attentions?"

Shion ignored the interjection. "I called upon their God for protection. Then, to their eyes, an angel spread its wings to protect me."

"You used Crystal Wall?"

Shion nodded. "Since then they have decided that the most pious path is to beat me only a _little_ each day, and then only before my angel appears."

"Isn't it dangerous to come here then, lest they find you gone?" Dohko asked, trying to hide his dismay.

"They will think only that the angel has taken me away for some mysterious purpose." Shion shrugged, and then shivered. "I judged it imperative that I visit you."

"What, to regale me with your vapors?" Dohko went to get a blanket.

"The welfare of the Saints of Athena is the responsibility of the Pontifex of Sanctuary," Shion said somberly. "As you are the only other Saint, you are currently my sole responsibility." He stretched out his hand – so disturbingly claw-like – and put the bread he still carried on the table. "I have neglected you for too long. It is time to again take up the bridle as the mule that brings you food and drink and nudges you from your sleep."

Dohko knew that this was not the time to let Shion know that he had learned the trick of awakening from half-death on his own. "And I appreciate the service." He unfolded the blanket and asked, "Will you allow me to cover you with this?"

"If you must."

"I must." Draping the blanket around Shion's shoulders, Dohko continued, "Your company and your conversation are preferable to a mule's. Most of the time."

"My company," Shion echoed with a weak smile. " 'Tis misfortunate that I could never bestow a better gift."

"Nay, you did give me another," Dohko said, hoping to cheer Shion a little, "and I still have it. Always valued though I know not what it is, save that it was bestowed by you." He went to Damonides' chest, opened it, and then turned to Shion, holding the vial of green oil in his hand. "See? Here it is. Will you ever tell me what it contains?"

Shion's face was unexpectedly stony. "No. Once I have told you, Dohko, the words can never be unheard."

"Why, what is this would I wish to unhear?" Dohko's curiosity was piqued.

Shion shook his head. "I am certain," he said, more to himself than to Dohko, "I shall regret speaking of it."

"Do friends flaunt secrets thus?"

Shion eyed Dohko steadily. "My loyalty is to Athena, and to Her I dedicate my will, my strength, and my life. As do you. As do all her Saints. I have given you the one thing of value I possess that a Saint has no need of."

"Oh?"

"My people," Shion said, as if changing the subject, "despite all efforts, have been a dying race ever since being driven from our original home beneath the waves by the Earthshaker. Millennia ago the Elders decided that the only way to hand down our legacy – our skills and knowledge – was to come out of hiding and begin to associate with humans."

Dohko had known the Aries Saint for so long he had stopped thinking of him as anything other than a man: but he was not. He had never before heard Shion talk of his mysterious and ancient race's history.

"Thus it was decided to make alliance with Athena, creating for Her the original Cloths; providing each generation a Cloth-mender and one chosen to join the ranks of Saints. After a time," Shion's eyes brushed over the vial and he looked away, "it was determined to take the principle of association further.

He paused, as though weighing his words. "Our liaisons are governed by … a particular scent. It signals mutual receptivity, beckons us to each other. Without it no consummation is possible. Our alchemists were able, after a time, to create a perfume that mimicked this scent. When the time is right we are each given a portion so that, if we find a human that pleases us and who we might please …" He stopped speaking.

_Fidelity._ "You gave this to me as a symbol of an unspoken vow, that if you could not have me as your mate you would have no other?"

Shion looked away.

"Why give me the gift, yet not tell me of the meaning?" Dohko asked gently.

"It was enough for me. I knew what I had given." The customary arrogance was beginning to creep back into Shion's tone.

"Do you still wish me to have this gift?"

"I knew that you would not want it, after you knew what it was." Shion's tone was sharp.

"True, I can no longer accept it," Dohko said.

~ :: ~

The day after she turned 17 Demaris had asked him to spend the night with her in the mountains. Dohko, thinking that it would be one of the vision quests Demaris's People performed, had cheerfully agreed.

When they reached the grove Demaris had set down their packs, spread blankets and furs on the ground, and then methodically removed everything but her mask. Nude, she stood waiting.

Dohko, confused, was also slightly uneasy as he found himself noticing how strong and beautiful she was. "Demaris?" he had asked. "What is this?"

(Even now, he did not know if she had truly been offering him her virginity, or if she had merely taught him something she somehow understood far more clearly than he did.)

When he had made no move to her she had unselfconsciously donned her clothes and then began to set out a circle of stones for the campfire.

Dohko, still puzzled but grateful for something to do, had gathered an armload of kindling and dry branches. As he set them down he had said haltingly, "Demaris, I'm sorry, but I – "

She had held up a hand to silence him, smiling. "No need. It was as I knew it would be."

"You are the most desirable woman I know," he had blurted out, wondering for a moment if he had stupidly turned away from exploring a new and wonderful land.

She laughed lightly, then asked, "Dohko, how have you felt since you and Shion fought?"

"What do you mean?"

"What are your thoughts of him?"

"That he is the vainest, most impetuous, most stubborn Saint that has ever existed," Dohko had said with a grin.

"And what else?" Demaris had asked as she handed him his half of the provisions.

"What do you mean, 'else' ?"

"You dream of him." It had not been not a question.

Dohko – who had seen evidence before of Demaris' eerie ability to see things others did not – had nevertheless been startled that she knew of these dreams: the feel of long hair in his hands, a warm mouth filling him with music, a welcome weight pressing him down. Dreams from which he woke feeling unhappy and incomplete, aching as the echoes of Shion's scent and taste faded from his mind.

"I would not be your friend if I let you continue a deception," she had said. "Shion is the other half of your soul. It is unnatural to hold yourself apart."

Dohko had frowned. "Even if that is true, this estrangement has been his choice."

"And it is your choice to punish both of you by accepting his rejection," she had said tartly, then added, more gently, "Even I know him well enough to know how proud he is. Having been first to reveal the depth of his feeling, if he felt at all rejected he will never display the sentiment again. It is not his nature."

"And what is _my _nature, then? To be a faithful dog that licks the boot that gives the kick?"

"Your nature is to seek harmony and reconciliation," she had said. "And though on your back you bear the tiger, to my eyes you are a wolf."

Dohko had laughed. "A wolf? Why do you say so?"

"Because my People believe that once the wolf has chosen a mate the two will remain together for life," she said; and then, ignoring his astonished stare, she had pulled the blanket around her and gone to sleep.

~ : ~

"I will not accept the gift of your abstinence," Dohko repeated.

Hurt flickered across Shion's expression, immediately replaced by anger. “As you wish. Give me the vial then.”

Instead, Dohko held the bottle to the firelight. "What happens when someone is anointed with this?"

“I … do not know.” Shion, realizing what he had just admitted, added harshly, “I plow whatever field calls to me.”

“An ungentle gift then,” Dohko murmured, curling his fist around the small bottle. “One question more, Shion.”

“What is it, old woman? Need you to know my soup recipe?”

“The night we spent in Sanctuary – you said often that we were not as we had been. What did that mean?”

“That we were older.”

“You were trying to set me at my ease.” Dohko knew that they were at a crossroads of both their fates. He said, his words far calmer than his pounding heart, “You could not say – though you wanted me to believe – that the Shion who kissed Dohko in the woods was no more.”

Shion shrugged. “I long ago accepted that you did not – "

"You could not say it because it was not true. If it had been true, you never would have given me this. You never would have spoken of poison, and love."

Shion turned his head. It was all the admission Dohko needed. "Shion," he said, “Often you have complained that I could not be hurried to your pace. But how often have you noticed that I still followed behind, along the same course? And now as in the ancient fable, though it took a score of years, can the tortoise surprise the hare?" He held out the vial.

At first Shion's face bloomed with joy, but then it clouded and he shook his head. "I cannot bear denial again, Dohko."

"If what I have said seems to you to be denial, then you know not the meaning of the word," Dohko said. He tapped Shion's head lightly with his fist. "What, has time outside Sanctuary dulled your senses? Or does this melon now rattle with dried seeds?" He asked, his face serious. "How do we begin?"

Shion laughed nervously. "What, think you to just – _gallop – _into this?"

"Why not?" Like a torrent of music suddenly heard – music that had been playing unnoticed for a long time – Dohko felt as though he could explode from the joyful _rightness_ that he felt.

Shion pushed himself from the chair and went to the door, his hand on the latch as if planning escape. _"Twenty years,_ Dohko," he murmured, "Twenty years and more have I accepted the impossibility of what you now offer me." It was as much reproach as statement.

"And now I ask you t_o _hurry to my pace." Dohko was disheartened at the bitterness he heard. "Should we wait, then, until your next visit?"

Shion turned. "Is that what you wish? To wait?"

"Only if it is what you wish," Dohko said firmly, then added more softly, "but following my selfish whim I would not wait, for the day that would pass before your return would seem to me like a year."

Shion bowed his head, but Dohko glimpsed a fleeting smile as the Aries Saint said, "Truly? To me the year until I returned to you would fly by like a day."

"Truly?" Dohko replied, trying not to laugh: Shion must make a competition of all things, and need always be awarded the laurel. Still holding the vial, he went to Shion and put his hand on the Aries Saint's shoulder. "Then we will not wait." When Shion raised his head, Dohko leaned in and kissed him.

"Bold? Thou?" Shion whispered.

"How else to thaw shyness?"

"Truly," Shion said, putting his arms around Dohko. "And does it melt?"

"It seems so."

The kiss that followed began slowly, as they savored the first unfolding of desire: Dohko had time to think _Yes, this is what we are made for_ before they ascended into fervor. Shion kissed along his jaw and down his throat, and Dohko gasped as a sparkling heat flowed through him. A moment later clothing was undone, and then discarded.

A soft chuckle from Shion, his breath warm on Dohko's ear. "It stirs."

"Eager, as I am," Dohko murmured; to prove this, he slid his free hand down Shion's back, pressing it against the _occasus _at the base of Shion' spine. He did not know what effect this would have, only that Shion had once told him that the smooth silvery crescent was only to be touched by a lover. It seemed to be the correct thing to do, as at the caress the taller Saint trembled and gave a harsh gasp. Dohko asked, "Now?" and when he felt Shion's nod he slowly pulled back from the embrace. Carefully breaking the wax seal on the vial, he twisted the stopper and pulled it forth, then traced it, as he understood women did with perfume, beneath each ear. He sniffed: the scent was very faint. "A strange combination for a perfume," he said, "roses and cloves?" He looked over at Shion and froze.

Shion had backed up against the door, seemingly bent over in pain. "Shion?" Dohko asked, quickly stoppering the vial and placing it on the table.

Shion's head snapped up. His appearance was feral: teeth drawn back from his lips, his eyes entirely red. "Are you sure," he rasped out, "that this is what you want, Dohko?" He moved his arms: the _tegimen _membrane covering his groin had become transparent, taut over the dark red shaft beneath.

"Yes," Dohko said firmly, without fear. "This is what I want." He walked to the bed.

~ : ~

  
The only moment of doubt was when a knife flew across the room and out of sight above him. A moment later there was a ripping sound and a grunt; hot liquid spurted on his hips and legs, and then he was entered.

It was like being ravished by a whirlwind. The initial strangeness melted under the concussion of physical sensation, the pure essence of being consumed by that Shion he admired in battle, wild and alien, so fierce it made the heart sing. As the initial furor tapered into a steady, glorious rhythm Shion's consciousness began to entwine with his, sharing the experience, amplifying it through their overlapping cosmos, weaving together and blending, creating a color for which there was no name, a music beyond hearing, finally transporting them with a shout to the center of a vast explosion ...

"Where are we?" Shion lifted his head from Dohko's shoulder.

"Not Rozan," Dohko murmured, his body still echoing with the pulses of desire.

They were floating in the center of a vast space. Around them threads of light curved and swooped away in every direction, connecting tiny glowing clouds that Dohko knew (although he did not know how he knew) were incomprehensibly far away.

Shion brushed his lips over Dohko's ear. "Although I could happily stay here with you forever, we must go back."

Dohko nodded, and concentrated on Rozan with all his power. With a cry (mostly because Shion's warm presence disappeared) Dohko found himself back in Rozan.

Alone.

He touched the bedding – soaked with something that was neither blood nor seed – and then went to wash in the waterfall, his head buzzing from the vast strange wonder of what had just happened.

It was perhaps that that prevented him from immediately noticing the change in the imprisoned Specters.

They were gloating. _Where did you go, little Gold Saint?_ they jeered. _Deserting your post so soon?_

He was climbing from the icy water, shuddering with comprehension, when Shion re-appeared.  "Dohko, what is it? Did I – ?"

"Not here."

Shion, nodding, silently followed him to the house. "They knew I was gone." Dohko said once they were inside. "The Army of Hades. Even though it was only a moment, they _knew_."

"They will wait for it to happen again," Shion said, staring at the stopped vial on the table.

"Yes."

They stood in silence, despairing.

"It was the most – " Dohko began, his disappointment so strong that tears blinded him. He could not finish the sentence.

"For me as well," Shion said quietly, stepping close to stroke Dohko's shoulder. "But let us have no regrets."

~ : ~

The next hour passed with few words. Shion pulled on his prison rags: Dohko made tea and dutifully ate the stale crust of bread that Shion had brought.

"I must return to my palace," Shion said, trying to make his voice light, "Before my courtiers miss me." Dohko knew that, even had it not been for that, Shion would not have spent the night Rozan.

The thought of that gave Dohko a pang of sorrow. _Why? We Saints give all our strength and loyalty to Athena, but is it ordained that we must also forego even the smallest human happiness?_

"So I will leave now," Shion said abruptly. His voice expressed a full measure of misery. "I will be back as soon as I can. Two years, perhaps less."

Dohko wanted to clasp his hand, to say something, but as long as he had known him Shion's response to wounds had always been to retreat, to recover in solitude. "Fare thee well, Shion," he said quietly.

And then suddenly they were not alone. With a start, they realized that the spirit of Basho was with them.

_What has happened here? _the spirit of the old Libra Master asked sharply.

"Master, I broke my vigil," Dohko said, bowing his head.

_Indeed? That is unlike you._

"It was my fault," Shion said with a scowl. "I distracted Dohko from his duties."

"It will not happen again," Dohko said.

_I am relieved to hear it._

"I will no longer visit Rozan," Shion added.

Dohko was stunned. “No!”

_Why such measures? Do you not enjoy each other's company? _

"Yes, very much," Dohko answered without hesitations.

_Then why would you deprive yourselves?_

Shion and Dohko glanced at each other guiltily.

_Ah, I see. _One could almost hear the spirit smile before it continued. _Yet … in this, as in all things, moderation will allow you to discover another way to carry out your duties to each other._

"Duties?"

_Yes._

"But Master, are you saying that ... being with Shion is my duty?"

_Of course! Dohko, Shion, did not Athena herself instruct you to renew and celebrate your friendship? When you were children, you merely complemented each other's energies, but now you are _essential _to each other. Shion, you anchor Dohko to the physical world: without you he would dissolve in the Timeless Eternal. Dohko, you purify and renew Shion's strength for his mission: without you he would be crushed by the centuries of shallowness, greed, and cruelty he must navigate._

_Of all the Saints, there have never been two who could serve so well – together._

And then Basho was gone.

~ :: ~

The next time that Dohko emerged from half-death, Shion was waiting.

"I have been thinking much of late," he said, "about moderation."

.

_~ End Part Two ~ _

 

 

(92) 28 Dec 2010

**Author's Note:**

> (Of all my Saint Seiya stories, this is the one I am most proud of - so it stings a little that it's one of the least-read. I hope that isn't because I have polished all the life out of it over the years! )
> 
> The fic started out in October 2003 as a planned oneshot extension of the Prologue to "Intermezzo," because the interactions between Shion and Dohko in the Hades arc just kept tumbling around in my head: brief as they were, they seemed deep and rich. It took a long time, however (and a prolonged writer's block) before I felt I had a true feel for the way I wanted to present their intense friendship. (Despite the mild way that Mu is characterized in canon, to me Shion in Hades seems more like a typical Aries (the cardinal Fire sign), arrogant and impetuous.
> 
> About the prose style used: Because this story begins in 1743, I originally wanted to give it a prose "voice" of that time. However, after reading most of Moll Flanders and Tom Jones I realized that doing so would be an ordeal for both writer and reader, and so settled on a quasi-pseudo-Shakespeareanish-poetic diction that I hope will be an adequate substitute.
> 
> Anyhow …
> 
> The (now non-canon :p) Gold Saints of 1743 that appear in the flashbacks were inspired by the artist **AcerB'**s gorgeous St Seiya fanart 1743: La croisade des Temps Anciens. (Thank you to **Necrobat** for tracking down the URL, and to **Cygny** for corresponding with the artist on my behalf.). Since AcerB and the French fandom had only named the Aquarius Saint of these intriguing folks (a forum post on a Spanish fan board did give it a go, and I used one of their suggested names - Demaris - for the Virgo Saint), I decided to make a stab at it with the help of various friends and fanforums. Thank you to the GameFAQs gang for pointing me to the fanart and the Spanish forum, to the bi-lingual SSY2004 ML for support and suggestions, and to **Toffee, Musouka, Lord Talian,** and **Kats** for names &amp; nationalities. (And to **Orange Manifesto,** who suggested "Mersault" which at some point I'll use as the name of the Aquarius Master.) Re: Verlis: I'd been using this name for over a year before I found out that Tanith Lee also used this anagram of "silver" to name a character in one of her recent works. Oh well.
> 
> +++  
> Update: the previous URL I had for AcerB's piece is 404, but, I did find a YouTube video of it (with the names that the Spanish fandom gave them, it seems :P) Search youtube for sq7ddLqb9uI to find “Saint Seiya - Antiguos Caballeros Dorados” The artist is Xavier Collette of Belgium.
> 
> According to some source that I can't now remember, the 1743 War involved the greatest number of Saints - 79 total (meaning the deaths would have been 10 Gold and 67 Silver + Bronze.)  
> . : .
> 
> (91) 29 Mar 2010


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